


Purple Wings

by SailorChibi



Series: Littles Are Known [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe, Baby!Tony, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton is a Little Shit, Cuddling, Daddy!Steve, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Pacifiers, Pants wetting, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wetting, alternate universe - littles are known, daddy!Phil, little!Clint, non sexual age play, non sexual infantilism, pull-ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint was used to pretending to be big. It didn't matter what Steve or Phil said; he really didn't <i>need</i> to be little every once in a while. Certainly not as often as they thought. He'd spent years denying his little side, and so had Tony, and they were both good at it. If it weren't for SHIELD and their big mouths, no one would've known the difference. He could be big.</p><p>This whole wetting his pants thing while at the park was just a minor setback.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commission; anon wanted Tony and Clint in a setting similar to the BST verse, but I wanted to branch out (literally - age play can be so confining when it has to happen behind closed doors all the time) into a verse where littles are known.

It was just after ten when Steve concerned him in the communal living room. Steve was clearly expecting him to put up a fight; he had his game face on and, no doubt, a list of reasons in his back pocket. Which was why Clint got so much pleasure out of shrugging and saying, “Sure.”

“Sure?” Steve echoed, eyes narrowed.

“Why not? A walk to the park sounds fun. I could use the fresh air.”

“Clint. You do realize that it's time for you to be little.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Clint said, forcing himself not to shift uneasily at hearing the words spoken so blatantly. It was public knowledge now for both him and Tony, but that never failed to make him just a little uncomfortable. Sometimes he missed the days when no one knew he was a little, back when everyone just assumed he was big all the time. 

Of course, those days had involved an awful lot of him crying in bed at night and suffering headaches from how much concentration it took to repress the little side of him, but he’d gotten used to it. He still didn’t know that what he had right now was an equal trade off for being able to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, without answering to anyone. Especially since what he had right now was Steve Rogers giving him a scrutinizing stare.

“Okay,” Steve said finally. “Come on then. Let’s go pry Tony out of the lab.”

Clint nodded and followed him. They could see Tony as soon as they stepped out of the elevator, though Tony didn’t see them. He was bent over the suit at an angle that made Clint’s back ache from sympathy. A selection of tools was laid out beside him, but he wasn’t using any of them. Instead, he was drawing in the air. Shining blue and red lights trailed from his fingers. He was sketching something, Clint realized, either upgrades for the suit or a new idea that had seized him unexpectedly.

The doors opened when they approached. Tony still didn’t look up. He was muttering under his breath, talking to JARVIS or maybe himself, words tripping over each other. It was JARVIS who finally said, “Sir, Captain Rogers and Agent Barton are here to see you.”

“Change the output capacity to – what?” Tony’s rambling came to a stop as he lifted his head, blinking. “Oh, hey Cap. Legolas. What’s up?”

“It’s Tuesday, Tony. You know what that means.”

Tony grimaced. He didn’t like it any better than Clint did. It was kind of like sleep or food: you didn’t always want to stop long enough to rest or eat, but it was something you had to do to keep yourself running. Except this only affected a certain portion of the population, and the rest of the world hadn’t always reacted favorably. Clint sighed to himself. At least he wasn’t as bad off as Tony. His headspace tended to average out around four years old, but Tony – no matter how much he tried to force himself to be older because he didn’t like being a baby – inevitably went much younger.

Of course, to a certain extent Tony did it to himself. They both had their methods of coping and repression, but Tony’s tended to involve throwing himself into work and not stopping until someone, usually Steve now, intervened. So it all crashed down on him when it was time to be little. Clint was guilty of the same thing to a certain extent, but there was only so much training on the range that could be done when he wasn’t busy with SHIELD or being an Avengers. Over the years he’d had to find other ways to keep from slipping, like meditation. 

“I’m busy,” Tony said, already sounding a little whiny. “Can’t it wait?”

“No. We had an agreement, remember? And you haven’t been little in over three weeks. I counted this morning and it’s been almost a month. Aren’t you tired, honey?” Steve stepped closer, well into Tony’s personal space. Tony frowned up at him, but Clint could tell that it was already a lost cause as Steve added, “We’re going to go to the park for a while. I’ve already packed some snacks. We just need to get ready.”

“The park?”

“That’s right. You love the sandbox. I’ve got your toys packed, too. You can build a sand castle.” Steve set a hand under Tony’s elbow, gently urging him to stand. Tony obeyed but stopped when he was standing, glancing over his shoulder at the hologram he’d been working on.

“Steve, really, I should –”

“JARVIS,” Steve said, and the hologram immediately vanished. “It can wait, Tony. I talked to Pepper. She cleared your schedule for the rest of the afternoon and tomorrow.”

“I hate it when you guys conspire against me,” Tony grumbled. “I’m a grown man, you know. I can take care of myself. No one would even know if SHIELD wasn’t so damn noisy and didn’t have such a big mouth and if Howard hadn’t –” He cut himself off abruptly, scowl deepening, and jerked his arm out of Steve’s hold.

Anyone else would’ve said Steve looked pained, except Clint suspected he was just angry. He didn’t know all the details; it wasn't in Tony's SHIELD file and Tony very rarely spoke about his parents for good reason. All Clint really knew was that Howard’s discovery that his son was a little had not gone over well, and it was partly due to Howard’s influence that Tony had grown up denying his little side. Tony had made more than one comment that the public knowing a Stark was a little no doubt had Howard rolling his grave.

With what appeared to be a lot of restraint, Steve said quietly, “I know you can. But I like taking care of you. Both of you,” he amended, including Clint in his smile. “Now come on. As soon as we’re ready, we’ll go have a nice afternoon at the park. And Clint, I talked to Phil. He should be back tonight.”

“Awesome,” Clint said, trailing them into the elevator. He had a plan. He’d been little just last week, and he didn’t think he needed it again so soon. No matter what the psychologists at SHIELD said about him and Tony needing to do it more frequently – preferably, the two of them would give up their spaces on the team and be little all the time, which was how littles were supposed to be, but that was never going to happen – he was fine. The good part was, Steve would be distracted with getting Tony ready.

Always the strategist, Steve had everything ready. Clint was handed a stack of clothing with instructions to dress himself, and then Steve hustled a sulking Tony into the bedroom. Clint looked over the clothing, which included a pair of jeans made out of a much softer material, a green t-shirt with a purple dragon on the front, purple sneakers, and one of his pull-ups. He fingered the pull-up, which was white with little monkeys on it. He didn’t wear them all the time when he was little, but Phil had been encouraging the use of them more lately and it seemed Steve was going the same route.

Clint tossed it out the window. He was big today. He didn’t need a pull-up. Then he stripped naked, leaving his clothing piled on the floor so that Steve would see his boxers. It wasn't the first time he’d gone commando, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He was pulling the shirt on just as Steve opened the bedroom door and guided Tony out. Tony was wearing what Clint recognized as a bodysuit with a pair of jeans over it, though it looked like a t-shirt that was tucked in, and – though you wouldn’t know it to look at him – he probably had a diaper on, too. Babies had way more accidents than big kids, and Tony hated wetting his pants.

He was so, so glad he wasn’t a baby.

“All ready?” Steve asked.

“Yup,” Clint said with a big smile, pointing to his clothes as proof.

“Clint, you know better than to leave clothes on the floor. Pick those up and fold them, please.”

Clint obeyed, grumbling a bit for effect, and set the clothing on the bed. Steve picked up the diaper bag, which was pale blue and patterned with green frogs along the hem and strap, and slung it over his shoulder. He took Tony and Clint by the hand and the three of them left through the back door of the tower. By law, it was forbidden for any media outlet to photograph, videotape or otherwise record a little without the express permission of their guardian. But when it came to the avengers and Tony Stark, much to Tony’s and Clint’s mortification, the law had looked the other way once or twice until Pepper sicced Stark Industries lawyers on the media. 

The park Steve had been referring to was only about four blocks away. It was a combination park, which meant there was equipment for kids and then a larger version of the same equipment for littles. Being that it was just after eleven on a Tuesday morning, there were a lot of people there already. Almost like a switch had been flipped, Tony immediately grew shy. He shuffled closer to Steve and stared intently at the ground, not looking anyone in the eyes.

Steve spread out a picnic blanket and set the diaper bag down on the ground. “Do you want to play in the sandbox?” he asked them both.

Tony nodded silently, lifting his hand to his mouth but dropping it at the last second. Clint, on the other hand, shook his head and pointed to the monkey bars, which wasn’t very far away from the sandbox. “Can I play on the monkey bars instead? Please?”

“Only if you promise to be careful, and you don’t go very high,” Steve said.

“I won’t,” Clint promised, making a beeline for the monkey bars. They weren’t terribly interesting when he wasn’t feeling little at all, but it was better than pretending to play in the sand with Tony. He reached up to the first rung and easily pulled himself up, perching on the edge of the bar and watching Steve and Tony’s progression towards the sandbox. Steve was carrying three pails and two shovels, which he set down before helping Tony over the side.

As soon as he was seated, Tony grabbed a pail and started shoveling sand into it. His serious face was adorable. Clint grinned to himself and performed a handful of lazy back spins that left him feeling a little dizzy and both kids and littles staring at him in awe. He liked having an audience, and it wasn’t very often that he got one with no ulterior motives. He did another back spin, then a front one. It was a lot scarier to fall forward, letting gravity take over for a split second before his grip tightened and he came back up, and he heard some gasps.

“Clint!” Steve called warningly. “Knock it off.”

It was literally child’s play compared to what Clint was used to. He was only about seven feet off the ground, if that. Not even high enough that a fall would do any damage. But he didn’t want to draw too much of Steve’s attention, so he reluctantly gave up and instead scaled the next portion of the bars. He liked that better, because it left him about ten feet up. Just high enough that he had a decent view and could see out over the rest of the playground.

He leaned his head against the bars and watched the birds for a while. They were flying so high it made him a little jealous. Steve’s friend Sam had wings. Clint wondered what that would be like. Sometimes the best vantage point during a mission wasn’t always the safest one, a fact which Phil frequently lamented in private. He’d been forced to jump before and hope that Iron Man or Thor would be close enough to keep him from becoming a pancake. But if he had wings of his own…

“That would be so cool,” he muttered to himself. Bright purple wings would be best, because that was the color he’d wanted his costume to be up until Phil said no because that would attract too much attention. Tony had compromised by making him armor that looked black, but was actually dark purple in the right light. Clint pouted. His daddy was so mean sometimes.

He yawned then and rubbed one of his eyes before blinking. The sunlight was making him sleepy. He checked on Tony and Steve, surprised to see that their castle had progressed a lot. Even as a baby Tony was talented with his hands, and although the castle was clumsy it was way ahead of the other castles. But Clint must have been daydreaming for way longer than he’d realized. He huffed at himself and stood up, setting the balls of his feet against the bars to keep his balance. 

“How do you do that?”

Clint jumped a little. There was a girl kneeling on the bars beside him. “What?”

“Your feet,” she said, pointing. “How do you do that? I keep falling, and my daddy got mad at me the last time I fell. He said I should be more careful.” She made a face, as though that was a ludicrous idea.

“You gotta stand right,” Clint replied, crouching down. He grabbed her foot and helped her to position her feet. She giggled when she was able to stand up without slipping and he grinned at her. Vaguely, he realized that the pressure from his jeans where they cut across his waist was making him have to pee. Bad. 

“Thanks,” the girl said. “I saw you doing those spins. Can you teach me?”

“My uncle says I’m not supposed to do them ‘cause they’re dangerous.”

“Grownups suck.”

He nodded. “I know. They never let us have any fun.”

“I hate being little sometimes. Big people get to have all the fun.”

“It’s not fair at all,” Clint said emphatically, feeling really bad for her. At least he got to be big sometimes. “Will your daddy get mad at you if I teach you how to do a spin?”

She looked around, scanning the playground until she found who she was looking for. “He’s busy with my little sister.” She pointed to a guy who was pushing a three-year-old on the swings in the kid part of the playground.

“My cousin is a baby,” said Clint. “They’re not much fun.”

“I _know_ ,” she said. “God, babies are so boring. They just cry and poop all the time.”

Tony was more fun than that, but Clint didn’t bother to correct her. “I’ll teach you, then. First thing you gotta do is sit down. Whoa, careful!” He grabbed her hands when she went to plop herself down without looking. “Look where you’re sitting!”

“I can do it,” she said crossly, wrenching her hands free. She sat down carefully on a bar, holding it on either side the way Clint had done earlier. He crouched down again to examine her grip, because he knew from experience that if she wasn’t holding on right she’d fall.

And that’s when he felt it. The first spurt trickled down between his butt cheeks, but the second dampened the crotch of his jeans. He tried to clamp down, but the pressure was just too much and his body kept right on peeing without his permission. His face burned with embarrassment as a flood of pee rushed across the front of his jeans and then down his thighs and into his socks and sneakers. It was hot and wet and smelly, and the girl recoiled when she saw what was happening.

“Eww! You’re just a big baby too!”

“I am not!” Clint said, mortified. 

“Are too! I don’t wanna learn anything from you anymore. You’re icky!”

Her voice was loud enough to attract attention. Clint saw people turning in his direction and wanted to run away, but it was like he was frozen. The girl crawled away, leaving him the main focus of attention, and he suddenly understood why Tony didn't like attention as a baby. It felt like everyone could see _everything_.

“Clint?”

Steve’s voice pulled him back to the surface. He wanted to look down at his uncle. He wanted to get off the monkey bars. His jeans were cold now, though no less wet.

“Clint, sweetheart, it’s okay. Can you climb down to me?”

No. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t even move. 

“It’s okay. Hold on, Clint, I’m coming.” And a couple minutes later, Steve was beside him. He touched Clint on the shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll help you climb down.”

He was crying, Clint realized when he looked at the bars and saw they were blurry. His hands were shaking too, so hard that he couldn’t hold on properly. If Steve hadn’t been there, he would’ve fallen. As it was, his legs nearly went out from under him when he got back to the ground. Steve caught him and helped him stand and turn, but not before Clint saw the ground under the monkey bars. It was covered in sand, and he whimpered when he saw that some of the sand was wet.

“Shh, it’s okay. You had an accident. It happens.” Steve wrapped an arm around him and led him back to where Tony was waiting on the blanket. Tony’s face was tear-streaked, which just made Clint feel even worse: he knew how much Tony hated being left alone when he was little.

“I’m sorry,” Clint said, or he tried: the moment he spoke, his voice broke and he burst into sobs. Which only prompted Tony to start crying even harder. Steve sighed and stuffed the blanket into the diaper bag, then grabbed the bag and slipped the strap across his body to leave his arms free. Then he scooped Clint up with one hand and Tony with the other and carried them both across the park into the public, family bathrooms.

He set Tony down on a little chair and took a pacifier out of the diaper bag, pushing it into Tony’s mouth. Then he set Clint and the diaper bag on the floor and crouched down in front of Clint. He removed Clint’s sopping socks and shoes, then gently grabbed the waistband of the jeans and started to pull them down. At the last second, Clint remembered he wasn’t wearing his pull-up like he was supposed to be. He grabbed onto his jeans and clung to them, still sobbing, too ashamed to admit what he’d done.

But Steve just sat back on his heels and gave him a sad smile. “I know you’re not wearing your pull-up, Clint. Now let me take your jeans off. You’ll feel better once you’re cleaned up.”

Clint chewed on his bottom lip but nodded. He let go, bringing his hands up to fiddle with the hem of his shirt as Steve pulled his jeans down. Somehow, his thumb founds its way into his mouth as he stepped out of the soaked jeans. Steve balled them up and set them down on his socks and shoes, then stood and wet some paper towels with water and soap. Clint closed his eyes and tried not to cry harder as his legs and genitals were wiped off once with the soap and water, and then again with just water.

“There you go. All clean,” Steve said, washing his hands quickly. He knelt down again and, unexpectedly, pulled Clint into a tight hug. “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart. You know you should’ve worn your pull-up, right?”

“I w-want to b-be b-big,” Clint sobbed around his thumb.

“I know you do. And you do such a good job of being big when you need to be. But the reason why you’re so good at it is because you give yourself time to be little, too. No one’s asking you to be little all the time, Clint. I know what the SHIELD psychologists say, but we know you and Tony wouldn’t be comfortable with that. But if you keep pushing yourself, you’re going to have a breakdown. Then you won’t be able to be big at all. Is that what you want?”

Miserably, Clint shook his head.

“I didn’t think so. Your daddy and I aren’t trying to make this harder on you, Clint. Or on Tony. We’re just trying to come to a compromise that everyone can live with, and which will keep you guys reasonably healthy.” Steve hugged him harder and pressed a kiss against his sweaty forehead. “That means obeying us when we tell you something like putting your pull-up on, because we’re doing it to help you. What did you do with it?”

“Threw it out the window,” Clint mumbled, curling his thumb against his lip in shame. Much to his surprise, Steve chuckled.

“That’s a new one. Good thing I packed an extra one in case of an accident.” He let go, and over his shoulder Clint saw Tony again. Tony was turned away, obviously trying to give them a little privacy, but he still looked so upset that Clint’s tears started all over again.

“I’m s-sorry. I d-didn’t mean t-to m-make T-Tony cry.”

“Hey. That’s not your fault,” Steve said kindly, taking another towel and wiping Clint’s face. “He’s upset because you’re upset, and him being overtired doesn’t help. He needs a nap, but before that you both need to be fed. What do you say to some ice cream?”

“Really?” Clint said, hardly able to believe he was getting a treat after he’d been bad.

Steve nodded. “As long as you put your pull-up on first. Here, I’ll help.” He took a new pull-up from the diaper bag and helped Clint to step into it, pulling it up around Clint’s hips. He even had an extra pair of green pants with him. Clint did feel better after he was dressed, with the comforting weight of a pull-up around his hips. He looked up at Steve and sniffed.

“You’re okay, buddy.” Steve ruffled his hair. “Can you change places with Tony, you think?”

“Yeah.”

He stood back while Steve scooped Tony up, then sat down on the chair. Steve cuddled Tony for a couple of minutes, rubbing the baby’s back and crooning into Tony’s ear until Tony stopped crying. But he was in a clingy mood, and he whined when Steve stepped over to the changing table and tried to set him down. He spit out the pacifier, which was fortunately clipped to his shirt, and shook his head. 

“No!”

“Tony,” Steve said. “You need your diaper changed.”

“No,” Tony said again, stubborn. “I’m fine.”

“You know what happens to babies who sit in wet diapers. You don’t want diaper rash again, do you?”

Tony’s lower lip trembled. Steve kissed his forehead, carefully unclasped his fingers and got him to lay back. Clint looked at the floor when Steve pulled Tony’s pants down. He’d seen Tony changed a couple of times now, but sometimes it was still weird. He tucked his thumb back into his mouth and waited, not looking up again until Steve washed his hands a second time and picked up the diaper bag. 

“Come on, boys,” he said kindly. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


End file.
